The thought caused his heart to pound against his ribs. He could not deny that he wanted her with every ounce of his being. He ached at the thought of feeling her warm body curled up next to him in bed. Indeed, knowing temptation would be just a few short feet away was more than his weak body could bear. Yet he could not ask her to go to Lord Wellford’s house, not in the middle of the night, and he could not expect her to return home.
In all the years of studying the dead, he had never encountered such complications. His work always brought him a level of peace and comfort. A feeling he craved. Now, his craving was in the form of a luscious flame-haired beauty. Now, immoral images played havoc with his thoughts, every action controlled by his rampant desire.
This delicious form of torture had given him a renewed optimism for life. And she had given every indication she was just as eager for his companionship, too.
What harm would it do to ease their physical torment?
As an independent woman of means, she had never alluded to love or marriage, which in itself was a blessing. He was not capable of loving anyone, not anymore. That didn’t stop them exploring the realm of carnal pleasures. Perhaps it was time to be a little more spontaneous, to take Rebecca Linwood to his bed and to hell with the consequences.
Cosgrove’s veiled sarcasm hit him as soon as he came through the door. “Your guest is washed and watered and resting in her room, sir,” he said helping Gabriel out of his wet coat. “If that is all, I shall retire for the remainder of the evening.”
Gabriel raised a curious brow. “In her room?” he repeated, the sense of disappointment that she was not waiting for him in his private chamber, created a hollow feeling in his chest.
“You’re back.” Miss Linwood’s tone conveyed her impatience, and as she rushed down the stairs to greet him, his gaze fell to her bare feet.
If he had to make a list of all the attributes he found desirable in a woman, feet would not be amongst them. Yet he found the sight of her pretty toes oddly arousing.
As she came to stand in front of him, wearing nothing more than a nightdress and wrapper, her wide eyes searched his face. “Did you find them? Were they still there?”
Gabriel shook his head. “No. They’d left before we arrived.”
Cosgrove gave a discreet cough and excused himself.
“What about the antiquities?” She paused and swallowed deeply. “Tell me everything is alright. Please tell me nothing is broken.”
“As far as I could tell, everything in the museum is exactly as it should be.” He would wait until morning to tell her about the painting as he suspected she would charge over there to assess the damage.
She placed her hand over her heart and closed her eyes briefly as she tried to regulate her breathing. “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you say that. While I was in the bathtub, I imagined you telling me they had destroyed my father’s things and I … I don’t think I could bear it.”
His stomach churned at the thought of her seeing the tattered image of her mother.
“Perhaps we should call Lord Wellford. You could stay with him for a few days while we try to establish what is going on.” The words sounded solemn. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it was the appropriate thing to say.
A look of panic flashed across her face. “I can’t. Please, you mustn’t tell him, Gabriel. Can I not stay here, just for tonight, just until I decide what to do?”
“Rebecca, people will talk. While I can guarantee the silence of my staff, I cannot be held accountable for the actions of meddling gossips.”
She stepped closer and placed a hesitant palm on his chest. “Please, Gabriel. You’re the only person I can trust.”
He could not decide if it was the touching words or the warmth radiating from her hand that caused his heated blood to bubble with pleasure. “The choice is yours,” he conceded easily. “I will do whatever makes you happy, Rebecca.”
Even in the muted light, she glowed with a radiance he found irresistible, and he knew he would never be able to say no to her.
“Thank you.” The words were barely a whisper as her hand fell from his chest. “I should go to bed.”
She stood on her toes, pressed her lips to his cheek and he closed his eyes and inhaled the unique scent of her skin, let her brightness penetrate the layers of his clothing until his body tingled in response.
When she turned away from him, he could not find the words to convey the emotion that filled his chest. “Good night, Rebecca,” he whispered as the muscles in his stomach twisted into painful knots of despair.
Despite finding the courage to give Gabriel a chaste kiss, he did not call after her and Rebecca walked up the stairs as though weights were strapped to her ankles, making each step harder to take.
What had she thought would happen? That he would wrap his strong arms around her and pull her into a passionate embrace?
She had felt his body tremble at the touch of her lips, felt the war raging inside him; an inner turmoil she suspected was more than a match for her own. He was hiding something of himself, perhaps the reason he chose not to mention his sister, perhaps the reason he chose to live as a recluse, away from Society.
When she entered her bedchamber, she sighed. I
t was not a sigh of relief, but one of disappointment. She closed the door and she placed her hands flat against the wood. Pressing her body up against it, she imagined what it would feel like if Gabriel held her against his muscular chest.